The Art of the Love Letter
by Aelia Douglass
Summary: Vilkas declares his feelings for the Dragonborn in a love letter, or two, or ten. If only she would just write him back.
1. Chapter 1

For SKM. In response to a fill asking for Vilkas to write love letters and... other things.

* * *

_Dagny,_

_When you first said that you were off to Riften, and that you would be back soon, I must admit that I did not think much about it. And then the months dragged on, and a loneliness I have never felt before beset me. I realized that it was because I was missing something. There was a piece missing from my very soul, and I had to discover what it was._

_I have tried everything; I have taken on more jobs than any other Companion, I have read every book I could get my hands on. I have spent time at the Skyforge learning to smith. I have studied a thousand skills that I have never needed and would never have missed. I have dulled more swords upon the frozen canvas of the hapless training dummies than any one man has a right to. Anything at all to fill the void._

_But even with all of that, I could not discover what was missing. So I began to think, and my thoughts kept returning to a single person. And when I spoke to others, I always brought the same person up in conversation. It was apparent to everyone but me what I was missing._

_It was my brother who finally told me what I had been too dense to realize on my own. That what I was missing was someone special._

_It was you._

_You have taken a part of my soul with you, and it has left my heart aching. You are the one who is missing in my heart._

_I miss your charm, and your wit. I miss your sparkling smile, and your infectious laugh. I miss your fiery temper, and the way your eyes spark when you argue with me and call me a hulking brainless milk-drinker. I miss sparring with you, even when you beat me. I miss everything about you, more than I can even begin to explain._

_I need you in my life more than I need air to breathe, and every moment I am without you is pure agony. I want to be by your side until the Divines take us, if you'll have me._

_I love you, Dagny._

_I await your reply with bated breath._

_Yours,_  
_Vilkas_


	2. Chapter 2

_Dagny,_

_It's been a week since I dispatched my letter to you, and the courier who bore my missive has returned to Whiterun. He tells me that you received it, but did not care to reply._

_I do not know what to think._

_My heart tells you that if you had no feelings for me, you would have told me so immediately. Yet you did not. This leaves a glimmer of hope within my heart, and I hope that you are merely delaying your response because you are arranging to return and speak to me in person._

_Yet, I do not know that your silence is a good thing. There are many reasons you may not have replied. None of them are good. You may be ignoring me because my feelings are not returned, and you do not know how to break it to me. (Might I suggest simply telling me?) The silence may be because you are in danger, or have been injured or killed somehow._

_Please, my love. Even if my feelings are for naught, set my mind at ease and let me know that you are well._

_Vilkas_


	3. Chapter 3

_Dagny,_

_My heart cannot bear the strain of waiting to hear from you._

_It has been a month since my last letter. Once again, the courier tells me that you received my letter, but did not care to reply. I will tell this courier not to leave until he has received a response from you, because I cannot bear the silence any longer._

_I am glad to know that you are well, and that you have joined the Bard's College in Solitude. Your voice is lovely, and I long to hear you sing for me once you are trained in the musical arts._

_Please put me out of my misery, my love._

_Yours forever,_  
_Vilkas_


	4. Chapter 4

_To think I thought I loved you._

_You, who threaten a courier with your Thu'um for daring to do his job._

_You, who ignore a man who has bared his soul to you and given you his heart._

_You, who crush that heart beneath your boot-heel._

_I wash my hands of you._

_V._


	5. Chapter 5

_Dearest Dagny,_

_I did not mean the words that were in my last letter. They were the words of a man whose heart has been crushed by the unbearable silence of the one he loves. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me._

_Please, put me out of my misery. Tell me that you hate me and you never want to see me again. Tell me that you love me and want to be mine. Tell me that you do not know. Tell me anything at all to end this unbearable silence._

_Please._

_Please._

_Please._

_I beg of you, Dagny. My beloved._

_I despair of ever seeing you again, and I cannot bear the thought that I have scared you away with my declaration. If you would like me to leave Jorrvaskr so you can return to your home, just say the word and I will depart. Anything._

_Anything at all for you, my love._

_Yours for eternity,_  
_Vilkas_


	6. Chapter 6

_Dagny,_

_I received a letter today telling me you were returning from Riften, and we should expect you within the week._

_Unfortunately, the letter was not from you. _

_I will be waiting, and then we will talk._

_Vilkas_


	7. Chapter 7

_For someone renowned for their bravery, you certainly are acting the coward. Sneaking in and out of Jorrvaskr? Avoiding me? Truly?_

_I am done waiting for you to come to me, woman. _

_You have seen my heart. My very soul. You must have found something lacking, for you reject me at every turn._

_I wish I could let you go as easily as you seem to have let me go. I wish I could tell my foolish heart that you are not worth the time. But I believe you are. _

_But you are going to have to explain to my face what it is that you find so... objectionable. Because I will not take your silence for an answer._

_I do not care if I have to chase you to Sovngarde, I will find you, and we will talk. _

_I am done playing games._

_I am coming to you, since you will not come to me._

_Expect me._


	8. Chapter 8

When Vilkas finally found her two weeks later, it was by accident.

He'd been roaming Skyrim, following Dagny, or really, following stories of her. As near as he had been able to tell, she was currently in Solitude, and he was about a day and a half behind her. He hoped to catch up with her before she moved on, but it was hard to predict. She spent a day or two in some places, but once in a while, she would spend weeks helping people with small issues.

It was late in the evening, on the road between Markarth and Solitude, and the sun was just disappearing behind the mountains when he saw the lone rider ahead. At first he thought nothing of it; more often than not, lone riders were mercenaries, and were on a mission of some sort or another. But then they got closer, and he recognized the war-axe strapped to the rider's pommel.

"Dagny," he breathed, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. He had _missed_ her, and she didn't even have the decency to answer his letters. He was simultaneously furious, and relieved.

He knew the moment she recognized him, because she drew up short. Her horse unhappily tossed its head and stomped, but stayed where it had been stopped. Dagny was frozen, her skin suddenly pale as she stared down the road at Vilkas.

He didn't move. Didn't dare to. If he wasn't careful, he was sure she would run, and then he would be chasing someone who was aware he was after them; thus far he'd been lucky. She had been easy to track because she was not actively avoiding him. If he were not careful, that could all change.

He saw the moment she decided not to run, and suddenly he found he could breathe again.

"Vilkas," Dagny said, dismounting and leading her horse toward him. "What a… surprise."

He had hoped to see her smile, had hoped at least a semi-cordial greeting, but she was stilted and withdrawn. His heart sank. After all this, she looked as if she wished he were anywhere but here.

"Dagny," He nodded, his features schooled to impassivity. He knew he had to be careful; he did not want to send her running again. "Did you get my letters?"

"Letters?" The innocence in her voice was too deliberate, her expression too carefully calculated. He saw right through it, but it left him perhaps more puzzled than he would have been otherwise.

If she had received and read the letters—and he knew she had at least received them—then she would either reject him, or she would feel the same. He couldn't think of why she would pretend she hadn't gotten them unless she was trying to spare his feelings? Or perhaps she had not read them due to some circumstance?

"Ah," He finally said, nodding as though this made sense to him. "Perhaps we can eat together then, and talk a bit. I have some matters I wish to discuss with you."

She gnawed on her lower lip, and seemed to think about his offer much longer than something like this warranted.

"Alright," she said finally.

He knew the worst was yet to come, but he couldn't help feeling incredibly relieved.


	9. Chapter 9

He didn't press her while they found a place to camp. He wanted to. Wanted to force the confrontation they both waited tensely for. But he was still worried she would bolt, and for all his thoughts about this very moment, he had not expected things to play out the way they had, and he was unprepared.

What was Dagny _doing_?

He didn't know. He couldn't know. Her face was blank, and she didn't speak as they went about the task of setting up their camp in a small cave. It was nicely hidden, and well sheltered. They were not the first to find this place and decide it was ideal; a small fire-pit had already been built in the center. Wood was stacked nearby. But a cursory examination revealed that it had been sometime since anyone had been here; dust and cobwebs lay heavy over everything.

In the corner of the cave, Dagny's horse snuffled at some grain she'd given it.

The true object of his attention was Dagny. She had gotten the fire started, and now she was digging around in her pack, pulling out a metal pot and some grains they could cook something in. If he had not been watching so closely, he might very well have missed the bits of parchment in the bag. But he saw them, and recognized his letters to her.

He wished he understood what that meant. Why it was that she had neither replied nor discarded them. If she truly did not care for him, she would have used them for fire-starter, or she would have sent them back. But she hadn't. She had kept them.

"Dagny?" He hadn't intended to speak, but the questions were overwhelming him. He needed to know what was going on, and he couldn't bear to wait even another minute. "Why didn't you reply to my letters?"

Dagny froze. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. He wasn't even sure she was breathing. And then she looked up at him, her face schooled, devoid of emotion.

"I haven't had time."

The words rang false, and he could tell by the way that she hunched her shoulders, she knew it. She was not a good liar, probably never had been. Twice now she had tried to lie to him, and he had to wonder what had someone who was generally so honest trying to deceive him.

"Dagny," His voice was plaintive. He needed an answer. He could not bear this uncertainty. If she truly cared for him, then he would be the happiest man in Skyrim. If she wanted nothing to do with him, he could begin to move on, but as things stood at the present time, he could not do anything. It was agony.

"I couldn't read them." She didn't look at him this time. Instead, she seemed to be staring at her feet. Her voice was small. She looked like she wanted to disappear.

"What?" He didn't know what to think. It was impossible to think that the reason he had not received a reply from her had been so simple. So, awful. It was this disbelief that made him hesitate before he continued. "You can't read?"

"No." She said. He could hear the tears in her voice, but she still didn't move.

Vilkas was petrified. He had poured his heart out in his letters. He had said things he perhaps should not have. And she had not read a word of it. He didn't know whether it was pride or something else which had kept her from having someone read to her. There were scribes across Skyrim whose sole job it was to read and write for those who could not. But Dagny had apparently not sought any of them out.

And then she made a small noise. The sort that comes just before the tears come in earnest. Without thinking, Vilkas rushed to her, and enfolded her in a hug.

"Oh Dagny," he sighed. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him. And then she did begin to cry, and he tried not to panic. He had never been able to handle women crying. He had learned to deal with many things through the years, had faced giants and bandits and all manner of beasts, but he had never been able to confront tears.

For lack of any better ideas, Vilkas held onto her, and tried hard not to think about the fact that he had made her cry. But he had. And it made his stomach churn. He had thought about how things might happen when he finally found her, but he had never anticipated making her _cry_.


	10. Chapter 10

He stood there in agony for an eternity while she clung to him and sniffled. Or maybe not an eternity. Logic said that it was only a few minutes, but it felt like forever. When Dagny finally calmed down, and the burst of tears had dissipated, he reluctantly let go of her.

She turned away quickly, embarrassed. He watched her swipe at her eyes and shove some wild curls back from her face. He kept his eyes on her, absorbing it all as she took a moment to collect herself. It was endearing, the way she caught the same curls more than once and tucked them back behind her ears. The way she sniffed and wiped at her face, trying to remove the evidence. She moved jerkily, obviously irritated, and that was all the more adorable.

He still didn't know what to make of this situation though. Dagny was a very intelligent young woman. He guessed she was of mixed heritage; at least part Breton, judging from her height. (And since Dagny was a traditional Nord name, he could guess the other half.) The Bretons took great pride in their education, but here she was, incredibly smart and completely unable to read.

Perhaps not _completely_ he conceded to himself. He did not know if she did not read at all, or if she just lacked real skill.

With a great sigh, she finished gathering her wits and turned back to face him. She stood mere inches from him, and aside from a certain redness around her eyes, he would never have known she had cried.

"You weren't supposed to find out," She said, scowling. He watched her lips, soft and rosy and plump. Her brows knit, low over her gorgeous blue eyes. He wanted to smooth away the crease between her brows. Wanted to kiss the frown off her lips. But she was furious, and now wasn't the time. "Why'd you have to write me those stupid letters?"

"Well," Vilkas hesitated. He had been prepared to confess his feelings to her when he was miles and miles away from her, when he wouldn't have had to see the expression on her face. But now she was here, and he found that he didn't have the courage. So he deflected. "Didn't your parents try to teach you to read?"

"They tried." She shrugged, not quite looking at him. "I mixed up letters and words, and it never made sense. I got mad, and I'd stop trying, and then they got mad and…" She hesitated. "They stopped trying, eventually."

"Oh," Vilkas couldn't imagine what his life would have been like if he hadn't been able to turn to books and reading to learn about the world. He'd read anything he could get his hands on as a child. He was a Companion through and through. He relished the ability to help those in need, and to raise his sword in defense of those who could not defend himself, but books had also been important to him. They had taught him _why_people fought, and _how_ people thought. They taught him to use his brain as much as his muscle.

Dagny didn't speak. She didn't seem to know what to say, and neither did Vilkas. He had heard of people who had troubles like she'd had, but he didn't know how to help them, or if they had ever learned to read. It wasn't something he'd encountered in any of his books.

"It's alright," Dagny shrugged again with a forced nonchalance. "I've gotten by this long without knowing how to read. It's not so difficult."

She was right, of course. Plenty of people throughout Tamriel would never read. But it was unimaginable to Vilkas that someone could exist happily that way. Few others shared his passion for books, especially those in the Companions, but he knew how much easier life could be. How much richer it could be.

He had to help her.


	11. Chapter 11

Neither of them could bear the awkwardness for much longer, so the conversation had quickly turned to less dangerous topics. The weather, the state of the civil war, the latest dragon sightings, and even a few of the jobs Vilkas had heard about. Dagny had told him she'd been keeping busy, and that she'd appreciate if Vilkas would come with her on the latest job she'd picked up.

He'd agreed, and then he'd told her that he would take first watch. She'd nodded, wrapped herself up in her blanket, and quickly fallen asleep next to the fire.

While she slept, he thought. It was what he was best at.

He could probably school her in her letters, assuming she didn't already know them, fairly easily. The hard part was always putting the letters together to make words, and understanding what uncommon words meant. He had never encountered anyone who'd tried to read and failed before. He wondered what it had been like.

Of course, this was assuming that she agreed to let him try to teach her. He didn't know that she would. Dagny had always been stubborn, he'd learned that about her already, and knew that he would have to convince her to let him help. Or that he'd have to make her think it was her idea. Or give her some sort of incentive.

Vilkas scowled at the darkness beyond the firelight, and wondered what incentive Dagny might need. He knew what he would want, and many of his ideas centered around her being naked, but he was just a man, and he'd wanted her for a very long time. It would be naive to assume that she would be as easily motivated.

The moon crossed the night sky, and aside from the quiet sounds of night-creatures in the distance, his watch passed quietly. Soon, it was time to wake her.

"Dagny," Vilkas stood just outside the range of her arms. Dagny was not a heavy sleeper, but she did not like waking. He'd learned this in the past when they'd worked together. Once, she'd come out of a dead sleep swinging and she'd punched him square in the jaw. Since then, he'd learned to be a bit more careful with her.

"Yeah?" She grunted at him, her eyes mere slits.

"Your watch."

Dagny nodded and rose, leaving behind the blankets for Vilkas. He had his own, sure, but these were pre-warmed. So as Dagny prepared for watch, Vilkas stripped any non-essential bits and wrapped himself in warm blankets that smelled of her. It was comfortable and wonderful, and he was suddenly grateful he'd taken first watch.

He was so pathetic.

With that thought, he drifted off and dreamt of Dagny.


	12. Chapter 12

Vilkas woke to the smell of cooking meat.

Dagny was hunched over a small pan, frying some bits of meat and what he thought were probably leeks. He wasn't complaining. Food was food, and anything he didn't have to cook himself was special.

She slanted a glance his way as he stirred. Her lips curved upward in a smirk, and Vilkas felt himself smile back.

"I thought that'd work," she said.

Vilkas rose, and began rolling up blankets and other supplies, preparing to travel. It had always been like this when they were together. They settled into their routine, casual domesticity out on the trail. They'd done this before, but it was somehow different this time, not knowing if he was about to complicate their relationship beyond repair. He wanted this with her. Wanted a life with her, and it scared him. Because Dagny was independent, and didn't need him.

But she was missing so much without the ability to read. And he couldn't bear to let her continue without literacy. The world was so much _more _when you could read, and he needed her to have that, even if it didn't contain him.

"Dagny," he said, looking up from his breakfast.

"Hm?" She eyed him warily across the fire, apparently guessing his thoughts.

"You need to read." He didn't know how else to put it. He was known for his way with words, but she was staring at him with a combination of expectancy and irritation, and it flustered him. He felt like a foolish boy trying to woo his first maiden, not a seasoned warrior, not a grown man traveling with the Dragonborn.

Silence filled the space between them. He could see that she was thinking, and he tried not to fidget while he let her contemplate.

"Fine," she said at last. He knew she was merely resigned to it, rather than eager, but that was somewhere to start.

He smothered the grin that threatened to give away his elation, and instead nodded. All business.

"We'll wait until we camp for the night, I think." He said as calmly as he could manage. Dagny nodded, relief clear on her features.

Now he just needed to figure out where the others had gone wrong.


	13. Chapter 13

They started by tracing letters in the dirt with sticks. It went well enough, he supposed, until Dagny decided she'd had enough. With a frustrated growl she threw her stick into the fire.

Vilkas wanted to press her, but he recognized the sign that she was done. At least for right then. He sighed, and settled himself on a log near the fire and waited. He was not going to be the one to start the conversation about how ending a lesson by throwing the instructional materials into the fire was entirely inappropriate.

Aside from the crackle of the flames on the unseasoned wood, there was silence.

Instead of acknowledging him or her tantrum, she began to practice with her sword. Her movements followed drills he recognized from the Imperial Legion; a standard set of steps and swings and parries. She moved through them fluidly before moving onto something more advanced.

And that was when the idea hit him.

"Dagny," He said, rising. "I want to try something."

She paused, and when she looked at him her gaze was confused.  
He didn't know how to explain it, so instead he drew his sword as well. He used it to carve the letter "A" in the air.

Comprehension dawned on her face.

She mimicked his movements. One letter at a time, they drilled until they were both tired of the exercise.

The next day, they did it again. And again the next evening. For the better part of a week he had her draw the letters in the air with her sword.

When he was certain she remembered, he handed her a cheap blade they'd scavenged off a bandit and had her use the sword to carve the letters into the dirt. One letter at a time, she carved the alphabet. She grinned at him, triumph clear on her features.

Each night for the next several days he had her carve the alphabet in the dirt with the rusty old sword. When he was certain she could write each letter, they began with words.

"Dagny" he said as he carved her name into the earth. She smiled and did the same. Again and again. She scribbled her name in the dirt.

"Vilkas" he said, this time writing his own name. Again she copied and wrote his name.

He had to admire her perseverance; their names covered the campsite, carved into the dirt in crazy patterns, here and there. Whoever next encountered this space would be certain who had been here.

She beamed at him, and his heart swelled.

"Vilkas loves Dagny" he wrote one night after they'd learned many more words the same way. She stared at it for a long time, but couldn't make sense of the writing.

"What does that say, Vilkas?" She asked him.

"I won't tell you. You're going to have to learn to read it."

He wondered how long it would take for her to read it. He hoped it would be soon, because his admiration of her was growing with each passing day, and it was becoming harder and harder to resist simply blurting it out and declaring his love of her.

Gods but he hoped she learned to read it soon.


	14. Chapter 14

It wasn't long before they hit a roadblock. He was working with her to string together simple sentences with the words she'd already mastered when she threw the sword in frustration. She could _write_ the words just fine. Could recite them to him when she wrote them. But she _couldn't_ wrap her head around _reading_ the words to him if he wrote them for her but didn't tell her what they said.

He thought about it. Considered what had worked, and what hadn't so far. It had become clear to him that she needed to learn differently from anyone he had ever worked with before, and his unconventional methods had worked.

But now, he didn't know what to do.

He'd been working on shrinking her writing implement down from a sword to a small dagger, because it was smaller to carry, but also because it was closer to the size of a quill and ink.

He'd tried that, briefly. Tried setting the letters down in the dirt, then in ink and she couldn't make sense of them either way. She had trouble with her own writing when it was in ink. Had trouble keeping the line steady, of an even enough thickness that the words made sense later.

They'd finally settled on using charcoal on stone. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.

The next night, Vilkas tried again. Dagny traced the letters with her finger, her lips moving as she said them out loud. The charcoal darkened her fingertips, and smudged away.

She sighed, and ran her hand over her face. Trails of gray marred her skin.

Maybe it was that, or maybe it was just his desire to touch her that inspired him to trace the letters on her skin. He caught her hand, and exposed her inner wrist. There, on the delicate skin, he wrote the message he was trying to get to her. She spoke the letters as he wrote them.

"V-I-L-K-A-S-L-O-V-E-S-D-A-G-N-Y" She frowned. Her brows knit together. She caught his arm and traced it on him the same way.

He suppressed a shiver.

It didn't matter what the intent behind her touch was, didn't matter whether her feelings for him were the same as his for her. Her touch left a trail of heat.

Their eyes met, and he had an overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss her.

But he didn't.

Instead he waited, his heart pounding, his stomach clenching. He wanted her to understand. He _needed_ her to understand. He waited for a sign of comprehension. He barely dared to breathe as she stared at him, the frown still marring her features.

She wrote it one more time. Slower.

He wanted to tell her. Wanted to scream it to the heavens. But he didn't. Instead he waited in silence. In his head he prayed to his ancestors. To the gods. To anyone who might listen and feel even the slightest inclination to help him.

Her lips twisted. She traced the letters once more.

Her lips moved silently as she spelled it to herself.

"Vilkas loves Dagny?" She said, doubtful. Her voice shook.

Mutely, he nodded. There were too many emotions for him to bear right now. He wanted to hold her. Wanted to kiss her. To tell her that he had been waiting for this day for months now. But he couldn't.

Her face was still as her fingers began moving upon his arm once more.

"D-A-G-N-Y-L-O-V-E-S-V-I-L-K-A-S"

She smiled.

That was when he gave into the urge he'd been fighting for so long. He kissed her with all the pent-up passion he had been carrying for her. With all the need and desperation and impatience he had felt for so long.

And she kissed him back.

_She kissed him back._

Their lessons were forgotten as he lost himself in her.


End file.
